


Special Family photo's

by Moreshipssthanthenavy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grieve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:05:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreshipssthanthenavy/pseuds/Moreshipssthanthenavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post his last vow.<br/>John is back in 221B. Mrs. Hudson gave him a box with old pictures, pictures of The Holmes family. He finds out that they had an other hairy family member.<br/>One-shot!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Family photo's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superwhxlockian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwhxlockian/gifts).



> Please understand that I'm not English. Sorry for grammar/English, American mistakes!

John never thought he really knew Sherlock. Yes, he knew his brother and his parents. But not his history. It was something they wouldn't speak of, it was the same with John. Sherlock wouldn't ask about it, and John wouldn't think about telling him. The possibility was big, thought, that Sherlock already knew about his life. Sherlock always knew everything.  
John was alone for the day, Sherlock was away with Greg. John was blogging, when Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with a big dusty box. "John? John, can you maybe look through this box if there is anything that's important? Otherwise I'll just throw it away." She asked and let the box fall on the ground. "Yeah, yes sure Mrs. Hudson." He said and closed his old laptop. "I'm going to get some groceries, do I need to get something for you?" She asked as she stood in the door way. John couldn't help but think back at the moment he saw photos of her, when she was young. Mrs. Hudson was really good looking back then. "Hm?" She asked again, what made him go out if his train of thoughts. "Some coffee, please, if you can." He said and smiled at her. "Yes of course, how are you doing, John?" It was a stupid question, of course he wasn't okay. Mary had died, and so had the baby a couple of hours later. It was 6 months later, and he still couldn't get back to the house. To many memories. To many things to do. But in the 6 months he realized how much Sherlock meant to him. He wasn't particularly good in comforting people, but he did the most he could. He helped with the funeral, both of them, he helped with so many things. Sherlock even hugged him when the grieve finally kicked in. It we're dark days, but the clouds began to get a silver lining, and Sherlock was the one who painted the light. "I'm fine, mrs Hudson." He nodded and smiled without the sparkle in his eyes. "I'll be back in an hour, john. See you then." She said and turned around. "Be careful miss." John said as she walked down the stairs.  
John heard the door close and he stood up. He just needed to sort the things in that box out and then he could back to work. He sighed and sat down on the floor. The box was from cardboard and was in worse state then he was. There was an etiquette on the box, with big black block letters it said: toys. John shrugged, what it said on the box, wasn't really in the box. John had learned that a long time ago.  
He opened the box and dust spread through the air. The box was filled with old looking pictures. John frowned but smiled as he saw what was on the pictures. It we're old family pictures of the Holmes family. He realized that he found a gold mine. Maybe this could give him answers about Sherlock.  
He bowed over the box and grabbed a handful of pictures. The first picture was one with Sherlock smiling in a bathtub, pink foam in his hair, and Mycroft smiling with a pink bottle in his hands. It was cute to see Sherlock in a way he couldn't imagine. Even back then he had big blue eyes and high cheekbones. How could he throw those pictures away?  
He laid the picture out of the box and looked at the next one. It was apparently Christmas. Mycroft sat on the couch, his face covered with pimples, playing on his gameboy. Sherlock was brightly smiling and wearing a new onesie. John estimated Sherlock's age on 6, and Mycroft's on 14. They looked like one little happy family. Something clinched in his chest, pity. Why did Sherlock change so much?  
He looked through some more pictures. The family at the sea, dinners, party's, and all when sherlock was younger then 8. Where we're the pictures of Sherlock when he was older? He looked through the pictures in the box, and then found two stacks of pictures bound together with a rubber band. He frowned, and removed the rubber band from one of the stacks. He looked at the first photo on the stack, again the family, but with an extra member. A dog.  
John couldn’t believe that Sherlock and Mycroft had a dog. They weren't the type to have a dog, right? John looked at the next picture. His heart melted a bit, maybe this was the cutest thing he would ever see. It was a little Sherlock, now around the age 8, with the big red haired dog next to him. Sherlock was smiling brightly, with a fake sword in his hand and a pirate hat on his head with curls sticking out under it. The dog was sitting next to him, almost the same length as Sherlock, and he was wearing a pirate patch on one eye. John turned the photo around and saw something was written on it. "Halloween with Redbeard :)"  
More pictures of a hyperactive Sherlock, and the dog running after him. On some pictures stood Mycroft, smiling, but staying away from them. Something about him, was off. His smile wasn't really genuine. John didn't know why he smiled like that.. Maybe he would find out.  
He was finally through that stash when he moved on to the next one. He threw the not-so-rubbery band away, and looked at the first picture. Sherlock older, maybe 10. He didn't smile, but was in the background of the picture with a book on his lap. Did something change? What changed?  
John gasped for air when he understood. Mycroft was smiling like that because he knew the dog was mortal. The dog would die, and he knew that it would devastate little Sherlock. The goosebumps rose on his skin. "Oh god.." He mumbled to his self and looked at the next pictures. On none of the pictures was Sherlock smiling, well... On one he was smiling, but not genuine, the way he did when he was little. And something else really showed, his sun bathed skin became eerily pale. But there was something more horrible. He became thinner.  
John always knew Sherlock as that guy with his frail frame. It really affected him. John sighed, how could a death of a dog affected the man who solved the most horrible deaths? Maybe the deaths did affect him? He should have a good talk with his friend.  
John lifted himself up from the pictures scattered around him. He would clean that later, but first, he needed to do something.  
********  
He walked upstairs, he didn't knew if Sherlock was back yet. He walked into the living room, and saw his best friend laying on the couch, clearly in deep thought. His hands we're clasped together, and his eyes shut. He wore the purple shirt, and a pair of fitted trousers. John walked closer and placed the little creature on Sherlock's chest.  
The man's eyes shot open, he was clearly not in his mind palace then. He frowned, and looked at John. "A dog?" He questioned. John smiled and nodded, "yeah, for you. As thanks for everything, I guess."  
The consulting detective placed his hands on the little blond dog. The color of the detectives hands complimented the fur of the puppy. It was fast asleep already, enjoying the warmth of the man. "I just did it to help you." Sherlock said after a silence. "You helped me." Beat. "I owed you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
